


Aftermath

by I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own



Series: Suilad Aran Thranduil [15]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Some pain involved here.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:23:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own/pseuds/I_have_a_Mycroft_of_my_very_own
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He walks through this battlefield now, eyes scanning over the dead and being unable to refrain from seeing the bodies of the dead of so long ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> A very, very small one today. Am lucky to even have this. Gabriel, Thranduil, Legolas, Tony, and Loki are all currently vying for my attention. It's Valardamn annoying. Originally I was in a mood to write supernatural stuff and then suddenly this happened. O.o 
> 
> Inspired by that part in the new trailer where Thranduil is seen looking through the bodies. :) Precious baby.

No matter how hard he tries, he walks through the battlefield but his eyes scan another. His eyes see the aftermath of a battle fought so long ago, in another age, in another place. He had been a different person then, young, naïve, a prince still allowed to be childish because his father was there to be king. He’d changed as he’d walked through that battlefield and his eyes had fallen upon something he’d never wished to see. He walks through this battlefield now, eyes scanning over the dead and being unable to refrain from seeing the bodies of the dead of so long ago.

Something catches his eye, the sun glinting off something golden, and while he knows he should discard it as the glint off of armour, something in his gut, a nagging pull, tells him to look. The body he sees lying in the dirt is not Oropher. While he sees the bodies of his father’s guard littered around, the body they died to protect is not their king. The air hitches in his throat, almost as if he’s forgotten how to breathe.

He falls to his knees beside the body, cursing the Valar for forcing this upon him, for forcing him to relive this. Down on his knees in a sea of blood and the bodies of those he called friend, his trembling hand reaching forward, hesitant to touch one whom he loves, voice caught in his throat. There is no arrow this time. The body he reaches for is not that of Oropher. He knows this. He knows, but his eyes, they cannot decide. One moment he sees Oropher and the bloodied mess he died as having choked on his own blood, but in the next he sees Legolas and the bloodied mess he lies as, a terrible blow to the side of the head, and a blade in his side. There is no arrow this time. The body he reaches for is not that of Oropher. The body he reaches for is not yet dead. He knows this. He knows, but his eyes, they try to deceive him.

He pushes through his fear, trembling hands lifting the listless body up and holding it close as he rises slowly to his feet. His eyes, they continue to see another time, as he makes his journey to the healing tents. This is not like the last time. The body in his arms still lives. There is no arrow. This is not like the last time, no matter what his traitorous eyes show him. This is not like the last time. It will never be like the last time. This time he gets to bring his loved one home.


End file.
